


God help us

by MurdockSchmurdock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sherlock Holmes/John Watson - Freeform, Minor Injuries, Not Beta Read, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock is a Mess, i wrote this in seventh grade dont bully me, kind of actually good though?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurdockSchmurdock/pseuds/MurdockSchmurdock
Summary: John takes Sherlock back to 221B after discovering the prick is in fact, not dead.*PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE I'M BEGGING YOU*
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	God help us

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyyy  
> So I know this isn't my regular IronDad content, but I'm not gonna have that story done tonight, luckily I have a filler piece.  
> Behold: My first fanfic EVER, written in 7th grade (I just graduated High School) and edited by my 8th grade English Honors teacher (Mrs LaGro if you see this I am so, so very sorry. Especially for wearing my horse head in your class). Sherlock was one of my first fandom loves, and I consumed a LOT of JohnLock content for a while there. So when I found this sitting in my notes, I knew I had to post it.  
> I was scared to read it at first but as it turns out it kind of slaps? Apart from some grammar issues, I think it might be better than the stuff I write now lmao.  
> Anyways, here it is, completely unedited, just formatted to look better for you all to laugh at. Enjoy!

The wooden door swung open, slamming into the wall, adding another gash into the ever-growing cluster of dents in the tearing, striped, wallpaper. A tall, dark figure stumbled in, shoved roughly to the stairs by a shorter companion. John glowered at the dark coat in front of him, his aggrieved mustache quivering. A whirlwind of emotions raged inside, dominated by anger. He pushed the detective again, harder, as he took his first steps up the disused stairwell. 

John seemed to notice, for a second, a wince from Sherlock as he began to trudge up the stairs. He shook the thought, he had only punched the bloody git, he was fine. As they reached the top he slammed the door again behind him, the stony silence that Sherlock maintained only serving to anger him further. The detective removed his coat, dropping it onto what was once their couch, and started for what was once their bathroom. John grabbed his arm.

" so where... why did you leave?!" John said, his quiet tone overlaid with malice and sadness.

"I had to John, I couldn't-."

"Couldn't what, Sherlock?! COULDN'T WHAT?!" John screamed in reply. Sherlock stiffened, his face twisting into a scowl before he deflated, his shoulders sagged and his eyes dropped.

"I... can't explain right now. What matters is that you’re safe." John shook his head in disbelief. Safe? What crap was he spewing now? 

" I waited. And I thought, you know what? He isn't dead. He can't be. The great Sherlock Holmes, surely he'll come back." John spat, glaring menacingly at the shrunken detective. " but you didn't. And I went back to exactly where I was.and I was alone. And I don't think you can comprehend that anyways." Sherlock wouldn't meet his eyes. " you being the- the freakish machine that you are." John almost regretted saying that when he saw Sherlock's eyes widen, and his mouth open, and his back straighten. But his rage had the most of him. 

The detective turned on his heel, striding quickly down the hall into the bathroom. John heard the sink faucet turn on. He hasn't finished yet. He started to walk towards the bathroom.

" and while you were hopping all over, pretending you were dead, I was left to pick up the pieces. I had to go and see your body. To confirm that it was you. To clear your name, to live in Baker Street alone! I had to-" he stopped as he walked into the bathroom.

Sherlock's shirt was discarded on the ground, surrounded by bloodied bandages.The broken detective stood over the sink, looking at John from the mirror. John's eye's looked over his bare back, the pale skin hardened by countless scars, some from knives, some from bullets,blunt objects, burns, things John had seen before in the ones he had lost on the battlefield. Amidst the scars were fresh cuts, ranging from scrapes to large gashes. One looked like it had just been reopened, and dark crimson blood oozed down Sherlock's back.Hideous green and purple bruises covered his shoulders and ribs. 

Sherlock turned to face him, a trickle of blood still running from his lip. The detectives grey eyes were dull, but the dark shadows surrounding them made them seem brighter than ever. His lip curled and John recoiled, realizing now what both his words and hands had done to him. 

" Sherlock, I-I had no-" 

"John..." Sherlock whispered, his voice cracking. " do you think I WANTED TO?!" He yelled, his eyes brimming against his will. " He yelped and grabbed the sink, holding himself up and locking his eyes with John's. 

" do you really think...?" The detective collapsed.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through this difficult chapter. Perfect cliffhanger tho right?  
> If I get bored enough I might rewrite it, or do more, but probably not.  
> Check out my instagram, [@murdock_schmurdock](https://www.instagram.com/murdock_schmurdock/) for Marvel content and fic updates!


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